


In the Library

by azriona



Series: Advent Calendar Drabbles 2015 [7]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Advent Calendar Drabble, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Episode: s04e08 Silence in the Library, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 07:11:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5366021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/pseuds/azriona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna Noble is in the Library.  Donna Noble has been saved.  (But <i>where</i> in the Library, that's the real question.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Library

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bookwormsarah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookwormsarah/gifts).



> Day Seven of the Advent Calendar Drabbles for 2015. Today's prompt is from bookwormsarah, who actually requested "Donna Noble is in the Library. So is Hermione Granger." Well... I got one of those, anyway, and I sort of flubbed the second, but I think she'll like it all the same.
> 
> The quote at the beginning is blatantly borrowed from the Doctor's speech at the beginning of "Silence in the Library".

_“Books. People never really stop loving books.  The whole core of the planet is the index computer. Biggest hard drive ever. And up here, **every book ever written**.”_

 

 

It takes Cal a couple of tries before she gets it right.  There’s just so many _options_ , and she’d never really gotten the hang of what adults like to read.  Other Dave goes into a horror story.  Proper Dave ends up in a screwball comedy.  Miss Evangalista is in a gothic romance.

 

None of them are a very good fit, and she’s desperate by the time she gets to Donna Noble, because she’s so busy trying to put the others to rights, that she nearly misses her entirely, and when she does manage to save her, she puts her in the first book she can think of, the _only_ book she can think of, the book she’s been reading herself, even though she knows it’s not quite right either.

 

“Blimey,” says Donna Noble, staring up at the castle.  It looms overhead, so large on the top of the hill that the walls might, at any given moment, slip right off the foundation of the building and slide right down to the bottom by the lake, leaving the interior open for inspection. 

 

There’s the screech of an owl, flying overhead, and Donna notices the sun starting to slip behind the horizon. Dark soon.  And apart from the castle, there’s nothing nearby. 

 

“Hope they enjoy visitors,” says Donna, and wonders if she can find a path.

 

*

 

There’s no path.

 

 

*

 

By the time Donna reaches the front doors of the castle, she’s sweaty and disheveled, her hands are bruised from some of the rockier and steeper bits of the climb, and there’s brambles and leaves in her hair.  Her knees are both dusty _and_ coated with mud.

 

Donna is not pleased, and she bangs on the tall wooden doors with her fist, ready to give whoever answers a piece of her mind.

 

No one answers.  That is – the door opens with a click that indicates _something_ opened it, but there’s no one there.  The hall beyond the door is dim and echoing.

 

“Huh,” says Donna, and goes inside.  The hall is wide and lined with stone – very basic, very serviceable, and clearly very well used, given the way the stone is lighter and smoother in the centers, where numerous feet have tread.  There’s fancy tapestries on the walls, and suits of armor at the doorways, and a strange sort of art fixture at the end, where hundreds of glittering marbles, organized by color, shine in glass vials. 

 

Donna thinks briefly of Beauty and the Beast, and gets ready for dancing teacups and armoires, but the bits and pieces of furniture and décor don’t move.  But there’s the hum of voices coming from a nearby room, and Donna follows it.

 

The closer she gets, the more familiar the sound.  Multiple voices, all rolling together, the clatter and clink of silverware against porcelain, the scrape of wooden chairs on stone. 

 

A meal – dinner, mostly likely, given the sunset – and the pitch of the voices indicates children.

 

A school cafeteria?  In a _castle_?

 

Donna pushes open the door, and stares.

 

A thousand pairs of eyes stare back.

 

At the front of the room, a man stands up. He’s wearing a long, pale blue robe, and a strangely floppy hat, a bit like something out of a bedtime fairy tale.  His white beard is long and tied with ribbons, and that’s when Donna realizes that everyone is wearing something similar – robes and hats and every single one of them is staring at her in shock.

 

All her life, Donna had been told that she was oblivious.  Mannequins in stores come alive; Donna had slept through it.  Aliens destroy Big Ben; Donna had been in Sussex that weekend.  A hospital is transported mysteriously to the moon; Donna had only the week before resolved to stop watching the newscasts.

 

There are some things, however, that Donna knew.

 

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” said Donna.  “I’m at _Hogwarts_?  _Doctor!!!!!!!!!!!!_ ”

 

*

 

The Headmaster’s office was a strange and pleasant sort of place.  Donna was too busy eating to notice, but she could hear the argument going on behind her tall wingback chair very well.

 

Hogwarts was all very well and good, and the Doctor might have disappeared, but Donna had to admit.  Those house elves could _cook_.

 

“She can’t stay here,” said McGonagall.  Donna thought it was McGonagall, anyway, even if she didn’t look a thing like Maggie Smith.

 

“She has nowhere else to go.”  Dumbledore had whisked Donna away, as friendly and cheerful as could be, and Donna was not one bit surprised that he looked exactly like Michael Gambon.

 

“We should check the school’s defenses,” said Snape.  (Not Alan Rickman.  Not even close.)  “If a mere _Muggle_ can get inside….”

 

“The door opened for me,” offered Donna around her roasted turkey leg.  “I think the castle likes me.”

 

“The castle cannot _like_ anyone, it’s an inanimate object,” snapped Snape.

 

“Aww,” said Donna.  “Did the Room of Requirement show you a beauty parlor and hurt your feelings, Snapey?”

 

“Headmaster,” said McGonagall quickly, putting one hand on Snape’s shoulder before he could reach out and choke their guest, “I think we may have been shelved in the wrong location.”

 

“Or something,” said Dumbledore, amused.  “One moment.”

 

Dumbledore opened the cabinet on the far side of his office, and pulled out what Donna recognized as the Pensieve. 

 

“Ooo,” she said, and left her half eaten dinner for a closer look. 

 

“Ah, yes, here’s a better location,” said Dumbledore, and without even giving her warning, put his hand between Donna’s shoulderblades and gave her a good shove.

 

“Oi!” yelled Donna, and her mouth instantly filled with the cotton-candy-dreams that filled the Pensieve.  They tasted like lemon drops and peppermint sticks and smelled a bit like wet woolen socks, and Donna was going to give Dumbledore a piece of her mind, _honestly_ when....

 

“You see, Cal,” said Dumbledore to the little girl leaning over the edge of the Pensieve next to him.  “Women of a certain—“

 

McGonagall hummed.

 

“ _Mindset_ much prefer a romantic sort of story, where they take the lead, rather than be a supporting character to a young man.”

 

“Oh,” said Cal, brightening.  She leaned over the edge of the Pensieve next to Dumbledore and watched as someone entered Donna’s hospital room.  “But not Doctor Moon.  What about Lee?”

 

Dumbledore smiled indulgently at the girl.  “I think he’ll do quite nicely, yes.”


End file.
